


Jeeves and the Epihi-whatsit  -or- How Bertram put his foot in it.

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bertie reels home drunk and lets his feelings spill. Jeeves misunderstands and relations around the flat become rather chilly</p><p>For the queerfest 2012 prompts:<br/>Through a disastrous misunderstanding, Jeeves believes Bertie has discovered that he is a homosexual, and is firing him for it. Bertie, however, only meant to confide in him about his own homosexuality</p><p>Bertie's not as innocent as everyone, Jeeves included, thinks. He's perfectly aware that he's an invert, and knows very well both how to be discreet about it and how and where to find company for an evening, should he require it. When Jeeves finds out, however, he's furious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Bertie comes home drunk and puts his foot in it

**Bertie**

 

I trickled back into the flat after a late night at the Drones one night feeling decidedly less than boomps-a-daisy. The beans and eggs and crumpets had been in rare form, mercilessly teasing B. W. Wooster until he was near to frustrated tears.  It was all I could do to maintain an appearance of sangfroid and try and act like the game and pleasant loser. It’s dashed unpleasant at times when all the friends and associates regard one as a bumbling innocent without even a passing acquaintance with worldly matters, or even basic vocabulary, if that’s the word I want.  I had attended Eton and Oxford, after all, and held memberships in more than a dozen nightclubs of varying degrees of seediness.  Back in the old days, before Jeeves had shimmered into Berkeley Mansions and made such things unthinkable, there had even been the occasional pansy club. Never a first choice, of course, but if Wooster was desperate for a bit of mature company, as it were and whatnot, he knew where to go and how to go about it. Just because a cove is rather choosy about his encounters does not mean that they are nonexistent, null, and otherwise not there.

Enter Jeeves.  Exit Wooster’s ability to even think about casual encounters of a carnal and sala-thingummy nature.  The heart could no longer bear up under it.  And there we had it: the nub, or flub, er, …rub, that is. For in that whatsit of whatchamacallit what dreams may come, and, er, ah, whatnot, although I must say that the dream Jeeves wears rather less than the one I meet about the flat.  The preux chevalier would never manhandle the manservant, at least against his will, and thus another nub or rub.  But Jeeves was no ordinary m., and as the thoughts strayed, it seemed to one Bertram Wilberforce Wooster that of all the manservants in all the flats in all the world, that there was one who could be trusted not to get himself into the soup and that m. was one Jeeves.  Quite some months had gone by before one B.W.W. had realized that the lack of interest in the p. clubs and casual e.s. was not due to advancing age so much as increasing fondness for said J.  It was deuced awkward.

On the evening—or in fact the morning—in question, I was tighter than an owl, and staggered into the door twice before Jeeves opened it. We had an agreement that he was not to wait up after 11, and he was in his dressing gown looking deliciously rumpled as it was about two hours, or possibly less, before his usual time of rising. I greeted Jeeves delightedly not simply because I was happy to see him, but also b. he was the first bird to speak nicely to me in some hours. As I reeled in the door, I stumbled against him. His mouth twitched in amusement.  No one else would have noticed it, but I suspected that he found the young master to be rather adorable when in a state of inebriation and I took care to make sure I oozed home in a haze at least once every few weeks. As I clutched at his dressing gown to keep from falling over, I noted that Jeeves looked quite boomps-a-daisy for a cove who has been rousted from a sound sleep to answer the door.

Jeeves steadied the y. m. with a firm hand to the slender waist and divested same of his hat, scarf, gloves and whangee. “Good-morning, sir, do you desire a whiskey and soda?” As I said, I was t. as an o. and pipped with the Drones and suddenly it was all too much to bear.  The willowy form draped itself over the Jeevesian shoulder.  Jeeves peeled me off his corpus and held me steady. “Perhaps not, then, sir.  Shall I help you to bed?” A certain amusement had indeed oozed into the Jeevesian tone.

As we trickled through the sitting room, Wooster began to babble.  “Jeeves, I say, there are chaps, and there are chaps, what?”

“I could not argue the point, sir,” said Jeeves, gently untangling the y.m.’s feet from the legs of the Chesterfield, and then once again undraping the w. form from the J. shoulder.

I waggled a finger and began to slur. “And some chaps are chaps who like chaps and some are not.”

The J. hand was placed firmly at the small of the W. back to aid steering.  Delicious. “As you say, sir.”

“And Wooster knows, Jeeves, more than they think.  More than they think.  I know all about those clubs.”  The Jeevesian corpus stiffened.

“Indeed, sir,” he said coldly and I slipped into unconsciousness.

 

I awoke much after my usual time feeling rather like something dragged in by a cat and then run over several times with a carpet sweeper before being placed in heliotrope silk pajamas and tucked into bed. Jeeves bunged down the perfect cup of tea in a highly pointed manner.  “Sir.”  The tone was frosty enough to be inviting to penguins and those tusky walrus chaps.

I tipped back the dark drink Jeeves makes to ease the y. m. through times of hangovers and felt a bit more like the sunny self. “What type of a day is it Jeeves?”

“I could not say, sir.”  He shimmered out, leaving the raiment laid out in more perfect array than usual. The very waistcoat and socks looked at young Wooster accusingly.

I was gobsmacked. Jeeves was decidedly pipped.  I had never seen him angry enough to disdain chat about the weather.  Not even the scarlet cummerbund had evoked such fury. What had I done to evoke such ire?  What had I said? I staggered into the dining room, lured by the fragrant eggs and b. to find that conditions were decidedly icy.  Polar bears could have biffed about the place happily or those woolly mammons, if that’s the word I want. No, mammoths, rather, there’s the chappies, great furry elephants that live in, or eat, glaciers or whatnot. I had managed the usual Jeeves hangover cure, but the usual e. and b. was as dust and ashes in the W. mouth and the insides curled at the atmosphere about the flat. I fled.

The Drones were suitably apologetic.  Apparently Gussie Fink-Nottle had biffed in and assured them that the only reason he knew where to find mature company was my guidance.  I hadn’t the heart to tell anyone he was really talking about newts and Madeline Bassett. After a rousing session of darts with the Arts and Entertainment committee, Wooster was feeling more sanguine about matters domestic.  Hopefully a sensible conversation could cast oil on the troubled manservant. 

Alas, Jeeves was one too many for me.  I had never seen him so angry, not even over that white mess jacket with the brass buttons, but I had not been prepared for what happened next.

Jeeves was just depositing the afternoon b and s on the side table, and I was opening the lips to cast o. on the troubled m. “Sir, I should inquire as to when will you be requiring my room.”

Wooster started and boggled, dropping the cigarette and lighter.  “Your room, Jeeves?  Why the deuce would I require your room?”

Jeeves removed the cigarette from the floor before it burned the carpet. “You gave me to understand this morning that my services were no longer required, sir.”

“I did?”

“Most certainly, sir.  If it is convenient, I will vacate in three weeks time.”

The Wooster jaw flapped miserably. “Very good, Jeeves.”

“Would you like me to find and train a replacement?”

The heart descended to a region somewhat below the navel. I hung the golden head despondently, but there was not an ounce of comfort to be had from him. No one else would be Jeeves, and it would not matter who it was. And it would not do to have him tell the new fellow that I was mentally negligible.  According to my solicitors and accountant, Jeeves was the only one who never tried to cheat me and didn’t appear to be fast and loose with the housekeeping money. “No, thank-you, Jeeves.  I would not like to trouble you.  I will see to it myself.”  The sitch was decidedly rummy. Then the corpus went absolutely cold, colder than an esquimaux. Had I confessed my feelings to him when I was inebriated? I must have done, and he must have been offended. The heart bled.

 

**Jeeves**

I had never been so angry or so sadly mistaken. 

Once again, Mr. Wooster had come home in an advanced state of intoxication.  Generally, his demeanor at these times was such as to warm my heart.  He was always so artlessly delighted to see me and, often enough, required a supportive arm to his bedroom. I knew that allowing him to put his arms around me was a guilty pleasure that it would have been as well to avoid.  It was my fault, then, that he had discovered my secret, even if he had not understood my attendance at those clubs for gentlemen with certain inclinations regarding the company of other gentlemen. Of course, I understood that he mentioned this as a way of dismissing me. Who would employ a valet with such proclivities? I tucked him into his bed with a heavy heart, for I was quite fond of my employer.  I fell asleep for another hour or so and woke feeling strangely unsettled and even annoyed.  I had not been to such a club since the day I entered Mr. Wooster’s employ.

I could not imagine at first how Mr. Wooster had discovered this old, infrequent habit of mine, for I had ceased all such activities upon meeting him.  At that time, I had recently ended a meaningful, albeit sporadic affair, and my heart was deeply wounded. Then, I lacked the time for his affairs were in desperate need of attention and then I found that such pursuits held no fascination.  The feelings I had slowly developed for Mr. Wooster prevented me from indulging in meaningless liaisons with others.  My life had taken on a new focus, and I had found myself sought after as a manservant and butler, which had never happened before.  Of course, I was, all too often, the laughing stock of the Junior Ganymedes.  I was still finding an occasional purple sock or alpine-style hat in my message box at the club.

On mature reflection, I realized that Mr. Wooster’s claim to know about these clubs extended to himself.  He had been to such places, and done such things. I only grew angry when I realized how he had endangered himself by doing such a thing in England.  My young master, who had always seemed so innocent and needful of guidance and help, had knowledge of that forbidden world and had allowed himself to indulge in activities that could have caused him to be confined, imprisoned, or tortured.  How could a man with such unlimited financial resources be so foolish? I was livid, so angry that it took several days for me to observe Mr. Wooster’s emotional state, which was certainly quite pitiable.  He was clearly neither eating nor sleeping and had left off playing popular tunes on the piano. It was not the demeanor of angry self-righteousness I would have expected, were I to judge on the basis of our arguments over inappropriate hats, evening shirts, and ties. Something was very wrong.


	2. The Epihi-whatsit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeeves cuts matters short and Bertie is heartbroken. Can they come to an understanding before it's too late?

**Bertie**

The next few days were the most dashed difficult I could remember enduring.  Jeeves was like a block of very angry, very professional ice in pinstriped trousers.  There was no speaking with him, no reasoning.  I was poking a chastened fork at the eggs and b one morning, when he came out with the corker.  “Sir, I must apologize, but I find that my services are required elsewhere at the end of the week.  I will gladly make arrangements for someone else to see to you.”

I started, sending f., eggs, and b. flying.  “This week? But it’s Friday, Jeeves. You mean tomorrow? You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“I am afraid so, sir.  I will leave detailed instructions for you.  If you like, I will review them with you this afternoon.”

I drew self up haughtily. “Very good, Jeeves.” 

“Would you like me to arrange a replacement?” The heart broke in my chest. There would be no comfort to be had anywhere, no one to speak with.

“No, thank-you, Jeeves.  I will see to it this morning.” I staggered out and took lunch at the club, and returned in the afternoon with a new copy of a book by some philosopher bird that Jeeves admired. I hadn’t seen his about the place since our last visit to Brinkley Court.  If he had to leave, at least he could leave with some token of thanks.

When I arrived, the flat was spotless and empty.  Several sheets of careful instructions had been left, in triplicate, on the kitchen table. The larder was nearly empty. I peered into the Jeevesian lair and found it stripped bare. Of course, I had no idea what it looked like in its normal state, but there was no trace of him.  The cupboard was hollow, and the bookshelf bookless.  There was not even a suitcase.  He must have been called away early. I would never see him again.

The sorrow that gripped Wooster was like a physical pain, as if a mastodon or something had jammed a tusk right through the willowy corpus.  Clutching the heart, Wooster fell to his knees, face down on the somewhat narrow Jeevesian bed.  I shook nearly uncontrollably, struggling to catch my breath so I could lever up and stagger back to my own room.

I was still grasping the bally tome against the breast and gasping like a goldfish beset by stolen cats when I heard a highly alarmed, “Sir?”  This was followed by the most welcome application of the Jeevesian hands to the head and shoulders. I tried to answer and nothing came out of the pipes. “Are you ill? Please answer me, sir.”  He ran the hands, carefully, over the corpus. “Sir? Are you injured?”  He sounded bally shaken.

I tried to pull myself together, but it was no use. The mouth worked but nothing came out, and he carefully turned me over to get a gander at the dial.  He appeared bally terrified and confused, and then the look on his lemon resolved into one of hopeless understanding. I was upset because I thought he’d gone.  He stroked the Wooster hair once, then stood and moved out of my line of vision.  I heard the door click shut. He’d gone.

I was doubled up on the floor sobbing when he came back in. “Sir.” His hands were gentle as he pulled me up from the floor and onto the bed, pulling off the shoes. I felt him curl up next to me, pressing the golden head against his shoulder.  He hesitated before he touched me, as if he were afraid of breaking something.  Thankfully, he said nothing and I was able to muster some control over myself.

“I am terribly sorry, Jeeves, for the poor form,” I gasped between heaving breaths. He wiped my face with a warm, damp cloth that had been lying on a tray.  He must have carried it in for me. Then he took the parcel and laid it on the table and loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top button of my shirt. I shuddered and panted.

“Perhaps we should attempt to be more open with each other, sir.”

“I would have been if I bally well knew what was going on, Jeeves, but how am I to act or think under these conditions?  I think we both know and understand the limits of the Wooster intelligence by now.”

Something shook the Jeevesian frame, and I looked up to see his eyes twinkling in fond amusement. “No, sir, I believe we do not.”

I grew indignant. “This is no time for laughter, Jeeves, the Wooster heart is…” I closed the eyes and choked back a sob.  With a tender sound, he gathered the willowy form closely against him and rubbed the back. Delightful.

“I apologize, sir. You are quite right.” I clutched at him, and he rubbed until Wooster draped over him like a boneless thing.  Jeeves levered us up and handed me something. He kept one hand at the small of my back while he wiped the dial again. “Here, sir, drink this.  It should soothe you.” It was a cocktail.

“Is this a special?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Will it knock me out so you can escape like an escaped valet into the night, or, er, the not-quite-teatime?”

His eyes twinkled again. “No, sir. I have no intention of leaving you just now.” I downed the cocktail and went slightly limp, sloshing over to one side like a jelly that hasn’t quite set yet.  He tightened the arm around me as I slid down against his shoulder. “Sir, I am very sorry to have pained you like this.”

“Then why, Jeeves? You have been like a vindictive, but bally efficient, ice cube all week.  I never meant to dismiss you, and you never gave me even a chance to apologize for importuning you. And I do apologize, Jeeves. I do. It was not my intention to offend. It will never happen again.”

The Jeevesian countenance went blank, then the jaw flapped open as if he were the y.m. faced with one of those algebra problems involving trains and bags of wheat, and the color drained from his face. “Sir, I do not understand what you mean.”

I was bally well pipped for a mo. and then had one of those epiphiwhatsists chaps have when they realize something.  I considered my drunken state.  Yes, perhaps the meaning was slurred. “But why else would you have given your notice?  I was explaining that I was one of those coves who like coves and that, contrary to what those raving blitherers at the Drones think, I know how to do such things. I am not some bally green innocent lamb.”

Jeeves mustered control of his pipes. “You were attempting to explain that you would be an experienced and qualified lover, sir?”

I flushed, but the cocktail carried me through.  “I bally well am, Jeeves. It stings the way the fellows drone on about how innocent I am, when I am no such thing.  I know how to find mature company if I want to.”

A certain sardonic look had nailed itself to the Jeevesian countenance. “Sir, am I to understand that you have gone to these pansy clubs and had carnal relations with total strangers?”

I shifted uncomfortably.  “Well, I did grope a cove or two.”

“Sir? I am not sure what that means.”

“Nothing terribly untoward, Jeeves.  One does not want to be uncivil.  And we did get up to some high jinks at Eton, you know.”

The Jeevesian tone became increasingly gentle and his other arm stole about the slender waist, which was dashed comforting. He lowered his voice to ask quietly. “Sir, have you ever seen another man naked?”

I flushed redder than a tomato. “Er…”

“Or engaged in the species of carnal relations known by the vulgar appellation of, please forgive me, sir, buggery?”

“No, Jeeves. One would have to be rather special and important for such a thing, I think, and I have never… well, none of the coves was quite the thing.”

“Or brought another man to climax with your mouth, sir?”

The eyes grew round in the bean. “Can you do such a thing, Jeeves?”

“Are you inquiring about my qualifications in these matters, sir?”

I dropped the eyes.  “One doesn’t like to pry, Jeeves.  Especially not about such a thing.  Or with you.  I do apologize, Jeeves.  Please don’t go.”

“Sir, I would like to stay with you, and I believe I would be qualified as a lover, if such was your desire.”

I started and he drew me closer. “Jeeves? But you were like a rabid bally thresher just before.”

“I apologize, sir. I grossly misunderstood you. I believed you had discovered my past and were dismissing me. And I believed you had been frequenting these clubs and endangering yourself.”

“Your past?  Dismissing you?  Are you mad, Jeeves?  Why would I ever dismiss you?  And why would I have the dashed cheek to do such a thing if I were…”  The Jeevesian ire suddenly explained itself and the mouth flapped open.

“Indeed, sir. I had a lover once, sir.  We met at one of those clubs. He married, and then I came to work for you.”

 The corpus began to quiver.  “So, you are not offended with the young master for approaching you?  You haven’t given me the slipper, er, ah mitten, ah thing?”

“No, sir. I have no desire to leave you. I apologize again for becoming so angry with you.  I was furious at the thought that you could endanger yourself in that way.”

“Ah.  I didn’t really, you see, Jeeves.  It seemed so dashed uncivil to manhandle the chaps in that casual way.”

A smile spread across the Jeevesian dial. “You have explained, sir.”

A thought sprang up in the Wooster bean. “You would not feel impatient with me because I haven’t been more, er, frisky?”

He placed a warm palm on the side of my bean and smiled.  “I would not feel impatient with you, sir.  Let me help you dress.”

“Dress?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?”

“I am leaving for Paris this afternoon and I would like you to accompany me.  I believe we have some frank discussions ahead of us and I want you to be safe while we have them.”

“Jeeves?”

“Yes, sir?”

“If I accompany you, will you let me cast the eyes over your unclothed corpus?”

“Of course, sir. It will be my very great pleasure.”

“Can we get a ticket at this late time?”

“I took the liberty of purchasing two tickets earlier today, sir.”

“Oh. That was dashed foresightful of you. I bought you a present while I was out.”

He opened it and his eyes filled.  “Spinoza?  My own copy was lost during our last trip to Brinkley Court. How did you know, sir?”

“I noticed that you had not mentioned him lately.”

“I thank you, sir.” He pulled me close and kissed the forehead and then he became brisk. “We haven’t much time to make you presentable.” He chivvied me gently into suitable travel clothes. He let me wear my pink tie, and then deposited me in a chair with a cup of tea while he finished packing my things. 

A gentle touch on the golden pate woke me some minutes later. I stretched and made a sort of purring sound as Jeeves stroked the young master’s hair. “Are you certain about that tie, sir?”

His eyes were twinkling and a broad grin spread across the Wooster dial. “I can change it if it offends, Jeeves.”

“Will we bring our Rex Stout for the train, sir?”

“Thank-you, Jeeves.”

 

**Jeeves**

As Mr. Wooster took to moping around the flat with huge, haunted eyes, I found myself deeply troubled.  Perhaps he was in some difficulty and I could assist him.  Direct appeals would be useless for his sense of pride and honor would not permit him to burden me, particularly when he had dismissed me. I would have to tap the deepest reserves of resource and tact I possessed. If only I had understood the truth, it would have been much less painful for both of us.

My feelings of upset at the thought of leaving Mr. Wooster clouded my judgment. I generally understand how he is feeling, but in this case, I could only see his worry through a haze of my own hurt feelings. Operating under the mistaken assumption that Mr. Wooster had somehow gotten engaged again, I decided to precipitate his communication of that fact by leaving him.  My hope was that he would unburden himself while we went over the household accounts and instructions.  It was unlikely that such things would hold his interest for any length of time, and he would speak about whatever was foremost in his mind.  I thanked the fates again that I had not come to work for kind, generous Mr. Fink-Nottle as his incessant talk of newts would have unmanned me.

Sore at heart, I made arrangements to take a holiday in France for some weeks. My employment with Mr. Wooster had been very lucrative and I found myself taking two tickets and paying for them before I realized what I had done.  Perhaps Mr. Wooster’s problems could be remedied by an absence of some weeks.  He would gladly reimburse me for the cost.  Travel arrangements took somewhat longer than anticipated, and I arrived back at the flat about an hour later than I had expected.  Fortunately, I had packed my things and left the suitcases in the front closet so I could clean my room thoroughly before departing.

I found Mr. Wooster collapsed across the foot of my bed, apparently in severe pain. The sight of him, as I thought, ill or injured, nearly felled me, and I could hear the undisguised panic in my voice as I asked him to speak. He seemed to settle as soon as I touched him, and I gently moved him so I could see his face.  A sharp pain in my breast took my breath away. Mr. Wooster had collapsed in a paroxysm of grief when he saw my empty room.  He must have stolen in to leave the parcel he was still clutching to his chest.

I was too moved to speak, but I stroked his golden hair then rose to remove my coat and prepare a drink and a warm compress to ease his distress.  When I returned, he had collapsed on the floor sobbing. I gently lifted him up and disposed him on the bed, stroking his hair until he calmed himself enough to speak.  My feelings of warmth and affection threatened to overwhelm me and I could not erase the fondness from my expression. He had been trying to recommend himself as a lover.

We came to a most welcome understanding and as we prepared to go to Paris, I found that Mr. Wooster was able to wear the pink tie with his Harris tweed suit if it pleased him.  My only thought was to ease his distress and bring him to a safe location so that we could explore our newly-acknowledged feelings for one another.


	3. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie and Jeeves share a new experience together.

**Bertie**

The trip out to Paris was rather rummy.  Wooster struggled against the impulse to attach to Jeeves like an affectionate barnacle.  I was dashed knackered and slept soundly until we had to pack up the sleeper and then I lolled about the compartment while Jeeves poked the nose into Spinoza.

“Jeeves?” he looked up without that trace of the annoyance he usually felt when his improving book was interrupted.

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you prefer Spinoza and think Nietzsche unsound because you believe in God? Or because you think we should live a life of reason and not be as slaves to our passions?” The book dropped from the Jeevesian hand.  He sat, jaw flapping, so I continued talking to give him some time to recover the vast arsenal of Jeevesian wits about him. “I do not like to pry, but I’ve been wondering, Jeeves.  You know that I like a bit of philosophy now and then, but realizing that appearing cheerful makes life happier is often enough for me.”

He bent to retrieve the book and managed to restore his face to its usual calm appearance. “Sir, I am most surprised at this question, given your strong distaste for such material.”

“They crammed us to the gills in the most unwholesome way in those schools, Jeeves.  It was bally painful. The bean simply throbbed like a stubbed toe. No time for thought or reflection.”

Jeeves considered this.  “I have considerable time for reflection in the course of my duties, sir. To answer your question, I believe that you have identified two of my beliefs.”

“Do you think we’re being reasonable now, Jeeves?”

“I cannot say. Although it would be highly unreasonable to do otherwise, sir.”

Jeeves had taken two tickets, but he apparently had not really expected the young master to accompany him because the digs were humble.  We had a bedroom and a bath and a tiny nook of a kitchen off the main room.  I hired a chap to carry the bags and Jeeves ran out for some viands.  When he returned, I had cleaned up and changed the raiment.  I had also managed to put sheets on the bed and commenced to unpacking the needful.  He came to me and stroked the fair hair. Something smouldered in his eyes and I felt a burning in my heart and soul.

“Sir, please do not trouble yourself over that now.  Are you hungry?”

“Yes, Jeeves.” I wrapped the arms about his neck and planted the lips on his. He was marvelous, applying the whole mouth to the matter at hand and using one hand to press the willowy form against his more substantial person.  We collapsed, shaking, onto the bed, and I began to undo his buttons.

“I had wanted to wash,” he gasped.

“No, no,” I stroked his hair and he groaned as I rubbed my body against him. “You smell wonderful as you are, Jeeves.”  My hands were shaking like aspens and it took far longer than I would have expected to lay him bare, but the effort was well worth it.  He somehow managed to undress me in a matter of seconds. I was on him like a rash, and almost before I knew it our passionate embrace had resolved itself into a trembling mass of spent limbs.  I had never felt anything like this before.

Eventually Jeeves found his voice. “That was… I have never felt anything like this.”

He was about to say ‘sir’ and I could not bear it from him just then. I stopped his mouth with my own and then pulled away. “I don’t know what we should call each other now.”

As always he knew the answer. “Beloved. Darling. Friend.” 

 

**Jeeves**

Mr. Wooster, despite his relative inexperience, in fact proved to be a capable and inventive lover. His passion seared through me like nothing I had imagined possible.  On our first day together, I had managed to convince Mr. Wooster to join me in the bathtub, and he was playing with his rubber duck.

“This is delicious, Jeeves, is it not?”

“Yes, sir, quite delicious.”

“Does it seem strange to you at all?”

“No, not at all.” He leaned back against me and I wrapped my arms more firmly about him and nuzzled his face with my own.

“I found those pages, Jeeves.”

I was nonplussed.  “I do not understand.”

“The pages from the Junior Ganymede book.  All eighteen of them.  You said you destroyed them.”

“I apologize if I was unclear.  I took them out of the book and I removed all the other items referring to you from the files.”

“Yes, and for Stilton Cheesewright and Roderick Glossop and Roderick Spode and Chuffy Chuffnell and Lord Worplesdon, I see.”

“It was necessary to avert suspicion.  Given that Lady Florence had unfettered access to the book, I felt it might be reasonable to assume she would protect her friends. However, it seemed wasteful to destroy the material.”

“May I read them?”

I sighed.  “You might have read them and not told me.”

“That would not be terribly preux, Jeeves.”

“I wish you would call me Reg.”

“I wish we could make love again, Reg.”

“Shall we return to bed?”

“Perhaps we could play here?”  I struggled to regain my breath and he continued, turning to face me and dropping the duck on the floor.  “I will take that as a yes and I do wish you would call me by my name at least while we are naked together.”  He ran a hand down my body, pausing over my most sensitive regions and I groaned.

“I do love you, Bertie,” I finally managed to gasp.  He stopped, and I stroked his face as tears welled up in his eyes.

“I love you, too Reg.”  He pressed forward to kiss me.  “I love you, too.”

We became lovers during a time of peace and plenty, confident that wealth and privilege would protect us from unpleasant realities forever. In long after years, our impossible innocence and the impetuous way we defied class and custom to express our affection for one another would stun me with their boldness.  At the time, however, it was the natural consequence of the life we had built together. 


End file.
